Page 45 of The Lazarus Protocol

“How did you know the postcard would reveal a message under heat?”

He went to the edge of the dining space and stared at the laptop.

“Noah?”

He turned back to her. “Because I’ve received one of these before.”

SIXTEEN

Somewhere over the Southern Carpathian Mountains, Romania

Adam sat on the plane facing the CIA asset, drinking coffee that tasted like it had been brewed too long and like the metal cup it was in. She glared at him from her seat, the tape over her mouth preventing her from saying anything. Every once in a while, she’d look at her hands, bound on her lap. Rub her thumbs together like she could use something to do.

After he’d disarmed her, the guys hauled her out of the car and put plastic ties on her. Adam had tossed her over his shoulder and carried her onto the plane. The loud protesting got her tape over her mouth, but he’d figured it was a front. All she yelled about was her necklace, which Kai had grabbed and brought on the plane with them.

“Found the scanner.” Ice got out of his chair across the way and stood in the aisle.

The rest of the guys were positioned between Adam and the front of the plane. All minding their own business—and listening in case he started talking to her. Frigid air blasted through the AC vents overhead, as Kai always turned the air to maximum anytime they flew.

Ash was still pale, probably too pale, but Dan had him lying flat and hooked up to an IV. Dan had cleaned and stitched the wound in Ash’s calf, so now it was a waiting game to see how Ash would fare.

Ice slumped into the chair beside the asset and lifted her hands, pressing the pad of her fingers and thumbs one by one onto the small square screen of the device he held.

“Go ahead.” Adam drained the last few mouthfuls of his lukewarm coffee and set the cup on the tiny table beside his left knee. “Someone grab me a pair of tube socks!”

The asset watched the screen of the scanner, her face not quite as impassive as she probably thought it was. But then, this seasoned CIA agent probably put on a front about everything. Especially that necklace she had tucked back down the neck of her shirt.

He studied her, trying to figure her out and wondering if he ever would. “Twice now you’ve threatened to kill me.”

Kai tossed over a pair of white socks in a bundle. “Was it something you said?”

Adam lifted one of her feet and put it on his knee, rolling a sock on and checking the cuts and scrapes on the soles of her feet at the same time. Making sure she didn’t have an infection. He did the same with the other, noting that he was right. Her skin was chilled.

She looked at him, a question in her eyes. Probably wondering why he was being nice.

Adam set her other foot down and stared at her, offering nothing. Leaving her off balance and wondering who they really were—and what might happen next—would exhaust her more than anything.

If he kept her awake long enough and frustrated her with questions, she would eventually say something she didn’t intend to say. She’d been through a harrowing experience but had the wherewithal to follow orders and go up against the whole team—pitching their loyalty against them by threatening his life.

She was good. And yeah, she was gorgeous.

Probably something else she used as a tactic to complete a mission. Another tool in her toolbelt, even if her hair was stringy and tangled right now and she wore clothes that didn’t fit. Despite the scratches and bruises, it wasn’t hard to see she’d clean up in a way that would distract any guy with a pulse.

“Whoa.” Ice had returned to his seat across the aisle, a laptop open on his knees. “Got the full rundown. Stephanie-Jo Davis.”

Her expression hardened, but Steph held Adam’s gaze.

Adam shifted in the seat, trying to stretch out the knots in his back without breaking their stare down. “Probably the cover story.”

“I’ll say. Works for a shipping company out of Baltimore. Been there nearly fifteen years and is their top salesperson.” Ice scrolled up the screen. “Social media accounts. Probably all lies made to look like she’s active online.”

Adam glanced at her. “Maybe she is. It’s more suspicious to not be these days.”

“Sure, because if anyone looks her up—like me—they find a woman who likes rom com novels and regularly thanks people for recommendations on what to read next.”

Adam looked at her, trying to discern if she was the kind of woman who read romance stories, then went to work and held a gun to the head of people who were supposed to be on the same team as her.

His phone buzzed.